Away down to the fool museum
acts of the awful sleeper
fill the head of the asylum attendant
toss and turn symphony of contempt
truly wrong filled cups.
Now in this Last Quarter
must I count my blemishes
see the foul maimed one
come out and sneer
beat him down with hammers of shame
awaken in a sodden room
move against this cold gravity
to the bathroom mirror.
I cannot describe to you how small I am.
I let slip the words of slumber
and acts of loose rage
no aforethought was given
they poison my deadened mind
and whip the back of my heart
with chains of steel frozen moments.
I have forgotten my love, I must try to find it.
Re-trace your steps, he said,
you have nothing to lose.
Really liked this one.
Especially that ending.
Great work, my friend.
thanks brother!
Hey dude, your poems are amazing. I wish I could be just as good as you tbh, but we all have our talents! Keep writing dude, your doing amazing.
thanks man! that means a lot!